


just beneath the surface

by ncfan



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords, Star Wars Legends: Tales of the Jedi
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, Canon Speculation, Emotional Baggage, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Introspection, Loss, POV Female Character, Reading, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 08:19:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfan/pseuds/ncfan
Summary: There had never been space in Nomi's life for curiosity before, so when she came to Ossus, she found little way to stem it.





	just beneath the surface

All her life, Nomi Da-Boda Sunrider had sought after a certain measure of peace in her life. Childhood had not given her peace; instead, it had given her struggle and bare subsistence. Her marriage had not given her peace; not even life on Ambria had granted her peace, by the end. Not to say that she had found life without peace totally valueless. Though she wished, more than once, that she could have taken back her sorrow, erased it from the fabric of the universe, she could no more forget her sorrow than she could her joy; the two were simply interwoven too tightly. But peace? For years, Nomi had wished for nothing more, had scrabbled for it, and had never held it for long.

Then, Master Thon took her and Vima to Ossus, and suddenly, Nomi had peace in abundance. Here, there were skies clear of predators or hostile ships. Here, there was soft grass under her feet and a cool breeze on her skin, devoid of dust. The air was clear. There was no pollution, no smog to mar the perfect blue sky. There was no bitter tang of fear.

Above all else, there was the Force. Nomi was less afraid to explore it here than she had been on Ambria, on a world where there was no native Dark Side corruption; there was nothing to make her quail from exploring what mysteries she could discern with her own power. But there was a limit to her knowledge, and Nomi found herself more and more curious about the history of the Order she had joined.

“You did not hear tales of the Jedi as a child?” Shoaneb Culu asked her, her low, slightly grainy voice betraying only the slightest hint of surprise. They had taken to one of the many staircases leading up and down from the various buildings in the Jedi community to talk, sitting on the stairs while Vima played on the grass down below. In the short time Nomi had known the young Miraluka, she’d not once heard Shoaneb lift her voice beyond quiet tones, nor heard it flavored with emotion stronger than a gentle breeze. She just seemed to have a natural calm about her that Nomi couldn’t begin to match.

Nomi shook her head, then said, when she remembered that Shoaneb was unlikely to have picked up on the gesture, “I grew up on a world beyond the Rim. The most I ever heard of the Jedi were stories about warriors with laser swords. They never spoke of the Force; the closest I ever heard was that Jedi could do magic tricks. Nothing like what…” Nomi smiled, almost wistfully. Andur had given her a demonstration of simple levitation not long after they first became involved, when she had expressed disbelief over anyone being able to do something like that.

How long ago that had been.

“And now you wish to learn more?” Shoaneb tilted her head slightly, the little glass beads dangling from her headdress tinkling brightly. “You must have questions. Has Master Thon…”

Nomi smiled again, trying to shake the wistfulness off of her face. “We’ve spoken some. He’s told me what he can, but there’s only so much he can tell me. I was wondering if you know anyone I could talk to, anyone who knows _more_.”

She had never been a terribly curious child growing up. There was always plenty of work that needed to be done, and Nomi hadn’t had much time to listen to stories. Stories had come to her from time to time, but it was mostly just overheard gossip in tiny spaceports, gossip that Nomi didn’t have time to listen to in full. Suddenly, she had more time on her hands than she had ever had as a child, and she found that she had questions.

Shoaneb paused, her full mouth pursed in contemplation. Then, she smiled, something almost like anticipation playing at her lips. “I know a person, and a place. Come with me.”

Nomi’s brow furrowed. “It isn’t far, is it?” The Jedi were scattered across the galaxy, far and wide, and Nomi wouldn’t be surprised if anyone Shoaneb knew lived far away from Ossus. She didn’t relish the idea of having to go off-world again, so soon after having found a safe place.

But Shoaneb only laughed softly. “As far as the archival compound, two hundred paces from here at most. We can go there now, if you wish.”

There were advantages to having been here longer than a couple of weeks, it looked like. Nomi sprang to her feet, her blood pumping almost painfully fast in her veins. “Now sounds good to me. Vima?” she called, gesturing for the little girl to come join her. “Come with me now, please.”

“Nomi…” A note of uncertainty broke the smooth calm of Shoaneb’s voice. “Vima will be safe where she is for a few hours. This is a community of Jedi. No harm will befall her here.”

The promise of safety, however cherished, was still sinking in. Nomi had lived her life elsewhere in places where no parent who valued their child’s life knowingly allowed them to play by themselves, away from any caretaker who could protect them. Nomi had let Vima get away from her once before on Ambria, and Vima had nearly wound up dying. Nomi wasn’t going to make that mistake twice.

Vima was herself blissfully unaware of any seed of uncertainty in her mother’s heart. She clutched Nomi’s hand and Shoaneb’s long skirt, asking question after babbling, stumbling question about all the places Shoaneb had visited. At least Vima would never have to quash curiosity in the interest of survival.

Shoaneb led them away from the complex where neophyte Jedi learned to construct lightsabers, and across several walkways and close-cut lawns to a complex of buildings made of weathered brown stone. Nomi knew, instantly, that this complex was far older than the one where she had made the first lightsaber that was truly _hers_. It wasn’t just the weathered appearance of the buildings, or the way sunlight rippled on the warped glass of the windows. There was just a palpable air of age to it, like mountains covered in dust, or old stars starting to swell and dim. There were many other Jedi here, and it seemed as though they could feel it too; they walked sedately through the compound, and spoke only in quiet voices.

“The archival compound?” Nomi asked in a hushed voice, though she already knew the answer.

Shoaneb nodded. “The archival compound. Come with me.”

The easternmost building of the complex was where Shoaneb led Nomi and Vima, one of the smallest buildings, whose veranda was shaded by long, swinging blue curtain cloths (Relatively clean, so Nomi could only suppose they were cleaned regularly). There weren’t as many Jedi milling around this building as there were around the others. Was it some sort of outbuilding then, storage space?

When they stepped inside, Nomi did not get the impression that she was in a storage building. Hot sunlight filtered through warped windows, illuminating hallways clean and free of clutter. Muffled voices could be heard behind closed doors, and occasionally, someone slipped out of one of those doors, smiling slightly as they passed by. _The Archives must be split up into many categories,_ Nomi told herself. _I wouldn’t be surprised if this is one of them._ Shoaneb opened the door at the end of one of the halls, striding forwards confidently. When Nomi caught sight of the room’s interior, she couldn’t help but gasp.

Nomi had never been in any of the archival buildings before. She’d not been on Ossus long, after all, and the Jedi Archives weren’t exactly part of any tour. Asides from the library, people were not encouraged to come to the Archives without cause. No one came here casually, and Nomi had not, and thus, she had not seen this room.

Datapads were a fairly recent invention in the grand scheme of things, though not so recent that Nomi hadn’t heard of them, growing up in the furthest reaches of the known galaxy as she had. The wealthiest and most enterprising had begun experimenting with using them to store books, but most people couldn’t afford the number of datapads required to store a large number of books. Instead, datapads were used for storing smaller amounts of information, and books were left to paper and plastic. Even those materials could get expensive, but it was still a better deal than using datapads.

Nomi had never seen so many books and scrolls in her life. Three of the room’s four walls were lined with shelves five tiers high, all packed with books and scrolls (Nomi looked around and, sure enough, there were ladders placed by each shelf, to aid those too short to reach the highest tiers). There were shelves in the center of the room, not so high as the shelves lining the walls, but still packed tight with scrolls. A few tables filled up the empty spaces by the warped windows and the wall opposite. The tables were empty, and there was a faint coating of dust across their surfaces, with clean patches where books must have been lying recently. Dust motes twinkled in the sunlight. The whole room smelled of old books.

_I know people from my homeworld who would kill to own a quarter as many books as there are just on one of the shelves. Have the Jedi really gathered so many…_

While Nomi was gaping and Vima was looking around for new places to crawl into and nap under, Shoaneb made her way to the far corner of the room, near one of the windows and where, on closer inspection, there was a break in the shelves. Nomi craned her neck, frowning slightly, but all she could see was Shoaneb standing over a wooden desk, her hands pressed flat against the only bare patch of its cluttered surface. _I suppose you have to get permission to study here. The books and scrolls all look so fragile. But I wonder who Shoaneb is sending me to…_

When Shoaneb was done at the desk, she walked back over to Nomi and Vima, a tall woman (Human or near-Human, by the looks of her) following after her. “Nomi?” There was an odd note in Shoaneb’s voice, almost trilling—it tugged the borders of familiarity, but Nomi still couldn’t quite recognize it. “This is Arren Kae, the head archivist of the history section of the Archives. Arren, this is Nomi Sunrider.”

Nomi eyed Arren with unabashed curiosity, this woman who did not look so much older than her, and had yet been given such a position of authority—keeper of all these ancient tomes. Her expression was one that spoke of a certain gravity, and her brown robes, embroidered with cream-colored thread, were cut severely enough to belong to a woman of authority, but otherwise, Nomi didn’t see any sign of it.

Arren Kae didn’t look significantly older than Nomi; they could have been the same age, or Arren could have been older, and showed her age less. She had bright golden hair bound in twin braids that shone in the sunlight. Her eyes were pale, glassy gray, her gaze direct and piercing—Nomi found she had a hard time, actually, holding Arren’s gaze; it was as though her brain was being picked, though she felt no touch of the Force upon her mind. Her skin was fair and smooth, the bone structure of her face sharp, strong and well-defined. Hers was not a soft face; Nomi couldn’t readily guess if the sternness she saw there was rooted in the personality or just in the bones.

Before Nomi could speak, could try to introduce herself, Arren spoke, her crisp, slightly reedy voice filling the air. “Shoaneb tells me that you have questions, and have come seeking answers. Is that correct?”

It was a question that clearly expected an immediate answer, and if Nomi had gotten a little distracted trying to place Arren’s accent, that didn’t stop her from replying, “Yes, I am.”

Arren raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what do you seek answers about?”

The prompting note came through loud and clear, but this time, Nomi got the distinct impression that she was being looked at as a potential interloper, rather than an earnest learner; something about the appraising gleam in those pale eyes told her so. She took a deep, steadying breath before saying, “I wanted to know more about the history of the Jedi. I’ve learned a little in my time as a Jedi, but I feel as though I’ve barely scratched the surface.”

Prompting note was followed by searching stare, and Nomi, with some difficulty and discomfort, held up silently beneath it. In all likelihood, she would have to travel far and wide to learn what she wanted to know, if she couldn’t learn it here. If it meant having her brain picked by an archivist, so be it.

After what felt like an eternity, Arren nodded. “Understand that my texts are very fragile. If you are willing to be careful when reading them, and take proper precautions with the most fragile of them, I will allow you to study here.” She looked off to her right and downwards, her pale gaze hardening. “However, the child…”

‘The child,’ nearly bitten out, made Nomi look down to her left, and feel a sharp jolt of panic when she realized that Vima was no longer standing at her side. Her eyes darted around the room, and her panic soon subsided when she spotted Vima on the other side of the room, peering out a window and running her hand curiously over the warped glass. “Vima stays with me,” Nomi said sharply, resisting the urge (barely) to glare.

Arren hardly looked impressed. “We have a policy about small children.”

“She stays with me. Vima won’t get into any trouble, and there’s no one I feel comfortable leaving her with.”

Arren opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, Shoaneb broke in with a simple, “Arren.”

It wasn’t shouted. It wasn’t said harshly. Just Shoaneb’s typical even tone. And yet, Arren paused, staring intently at Shoaneb with her eyes narrowed. When she spoke, she addressed Nomi, but never took her eyes from Shoaneb’s face. “If you tell the child not to touch any of the books or scrolls, will she listen?”

“ _Yes._ Vima is a good girl.”

“Very well. If you’re wrong, on your head be it. And finally, keep in mind that if you are reading something someone  come in here asking after as part of a research request, you will have to give it to them.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Nomi said patiently. Better not to upset the balance of the only safe place she had ever known too badly.

-0-0-0-

The procedure for hardly the most fragile of the texts under Arren Kae’s care involved wearing gloves so that none of the oils on the skin would make contact with the pages, and a facial mask so that saliva wouldn’t, either. Apparently, moisture damaging the binding on the oldest of the texts was a real problem, if Arren’s forceful assertion was any indication. Once that was out of the way, Nomi was given full access to Arren’s inventory, which surprised Nomi a little. Given the archivist’s attitude, she would have thought access would be much more limited.

Nomi wasn’t entirely certain where to start. The sheer number of books and scrolls available to her was overwhelming; it was like setting a starving man down in front of a buffet and telling him he could only put one thing on his plate at a time. When she recovered enough to think about it, starting at the beginning—the _very_ beginning—seemed like the best option, but the texts were arranged by author, not date. So Nomi just started picking books out at random, and reading.

Whenever she had free time, Nomi went to the Archives, and read. Once she picked up a book, she just couldn’t put it down until doing so proved absolutely necessary, and found herself thinking about it during all the time she spent away from the Archives. Whether it was a centuries-dead master’s account of a war they had fought in, a compilation of political treaties the Jedi had a hand in creating, or account documenting periods of estrangement between the Jedi and the Republic, Nomi devoured it all. She had found an outlet for curiosity long-quashed, and neither knew how to turn it off, nor particularly cared to try.

Arren rarely interrupted her, doing so only to tell her that the Archives were closing for the night or to check if what Nomi was reading at the time was something someone had asked after as part of a research request. She had assistants who were constantly coming in and out, every one of whom had shot incredulous looks at and asked irritating questions about Vima when they first saw her. Most had the sense to shut up after Nomi tersely told them that Vima stayed with her. Some took their concerns to Arren, and had to be told the same thing twice.

Asides from the assistants, there weren’t many people who came here. Shoaneb, and just as likely to speak with Arren as with Nomi.  Arren Kae passed the time by perusing the shelves, and Nomi Sunrider, by reading.

-0-0-0-

It was one of those days when Shoaneb came to visit. “Be careful, Nomi,” she joked sometimes, “Or you might well become even more of a hermit than Arren.” Vima was sitting in a patch of sunlight, playing with a toy one of the neophyte Jedi from the lightsaber construction class had given her, and Arren and Shoaneb were seated at a nearby table, deep in conversation.

“Do you know if anyone has ever conducted an examination of your species’ brains, or their eye cavities?” Arren asked, scribbling furiously on a loose sheet of paper on the table in front of her. “Any studies conducted into how you can channel the Force in such a way as to see, without physical eyes. It would be helpful to have this information if you wish to teach others.”

A small smile played around Shoaneb’s lips as she replied, “I can’t say that I know of any such studies, Arren. I was not exactly an expert on these things. If you seek answers, you may make inquiries with medical authorities on Alpheridies.”

“Indeed I shall,” Arren muttered abstractedly. “I can hardly believe that no such studies have ever been conducted. It would be an incredible oversight if they had _not_.”

Herself, Nomi had been reading a book about the seeds of the schism in the Jedi Order that would lead to the birth of the Sith Empire. It was quite fascinating, if a little disturbing—according to the book, the Jedi Temple on Coruscant had been built over the remains of a Sith Temple, and if the author was to be believed, several Sith artifacts had just been left to gather dust under the foundations of the new Temple. But she had never heard such intense interest in Arren’s voice before. Mild curiosity, yes, disdain or disapproval, yes, but typically much more controlled than this. There was a bright gleam in her eyes as well, flashing like a beacon. Nomi paused in her reading, and looked over at the other two women, seeing little use in trying to hide the fact that she was listening.

As if to drive in further the point of how unusual this was, it was not Arren who first realized that Nomi was listening. Instead, Shoaneb turned her head vaguely in Nomi’s direction, straightening in her chair as she did so. Her beaded headdress shivered slightly. “Was there something you needed, Nomi?”

That was enough to make Arren turn her pale gaze on her. Rather than feeling abashed (there really wasn’t any point; it wasn’t like she could have kept from listening), Nomi met her gaze squarely. “No, nothing. I was just curious about what you were talking about.”

The other two women exchanged glances (well, Arren glanced; Shoaneb merely turned her head back in Arren’s direction), falling silent. Then, Shoaneb said, “There isn’t any point in _not_ telling you, I suppose. Did I ever tell you why I first sought out the Jedi, Nomi?”

Nomi frowned. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“The Miraluka developed faster-than-light space travel long ago,” Shoaneb explained, “but we rarely utilize it. We have but one colony, a Rim world named Katarr. We perceive the galaxy solely through the Force; our eyes atrophied tens of thousands of years ago, and Alpheridies and Katarr are the only worlds that have been constructed to fully suit our needs.

“All Miraluka are Force-Sensitive, but few ever become Jedi, for that requires leaving our sanctuaries and adapting to worlds built for those who perceive very differently. I…” At that Shoaneb broke off briefly, tapping her fingernails against the surface of the table, a staccato _clack, clack, clack._ “…I wished to change that. Eventually, I plan on returning to Alpheridies, and establishing a school for Jedi there. But first, I must see if I am any kind of teacher at all.”

“We thought it best to explore how the Miraluka perceive the galaxy,” Arren added, her voice remarkably light. “I personally am very curious about that; the Force holds many mysteries, if one just goes looking.”

Truth be told, of all her official areas of study, the Force likely interested Nomi the most. At the very least, it held her interest much more than anything about lightsabers did. So to her, it seemed perfectly natural to ask, “How _do_ you see the galaxy?” When Nomi realized how that might sound, she quickly added, “I’m not talking about the mechanics of it, Shoaneb. What does it _feel_ like?”

There was a long silence as Shoaneb seemed to ponder her reply. Birdsong filtered in from outside, and Vima let out a gasp of delight as a trio of little blue songbirds darted by a window. “In perceiving the galaxy through the Force, one sees the connections between all living things.” Her voice took on a hushed, almost reverent note as she went on, “The Force flows through all that lives in some way or another. You and I and all else is connected to the Force, but all, but all that lives beneath the stars is connected to each other. When we interact with others, we form connections through the Force. They are tenuous things at first, but as your bonds with others grow, so too do the strength of these connections. What it does, Nomi Sunrider, is remind me that I am _never alone_.”

It was an eloquent response, and vivid enough that Nomi could visualize it herself, easily. It was obvious that such a thing gaze Shoaneb a measure of peace, even if she hadn’t been smiling contentedly. But when Nomi murmured a “Thank you,” her voice seemed faint even to her own ears, and her smile felt as though it might break her face in two.

-0-0-0-

Later, Nomi would wonder when exactly that creeping sense of loneliness had become a houseguest in her heart again. She felt as she had during those first months on Ambria, when Master Thon paid her little mind and she was left largely to her own devices. The sky overhead was entirely too big—Nomi felt as though she might drown in it if she looked at it for too long. The wind seemed to carry mournful voices even when no one else was around, and if she let her mind wander for too long, its track would take her right to—

Her reading provided a distraction, at least.  In those books and scrolls, Nomi could lose herself in other worlds and other people’s lives, could visualize them so clearly that the fine details of her world became dull and hazy. That was the secret of battle meditation, Thon had told her, to be able to see something unreal so clearly in her mind that she could overwrite reality with it. This was practice, then.

“Mama?”

She did love finding somewhere cool to sit, away from the windows, a cool, dark corner where there was less traffic.

“Mama?”

A small hand was tugging on her trouser leg, and Nomi at last looked away from her reading, blinking her sore, bloodshot eyes. Vima was standing right beside her—Nomi hadn’t even noticed her approach—her little face scrunched up. “Yes, Vima?” Nomi asked, fixing what she hoped was a reassuring smile to her face. “What is it?”

“Wanna go outside,” Vima mumbled, her face scrunching up even further.

Nomi frowned. “That’s ‘May I please go outside?’, Vima, and no, you may not.”

“Why?” Vima demanded, her thin voice taking on more than a hint of a whine.

“You have to stay with me, Vima.” Sensing (and one didn’t need the Force to pick up on it) that this wouldn’t be enough to sway her, Nomi added soothingly, “Just a couple more hours, and then we can go outside together. Doesn’t that sound nice, Vima?”

Not sufficient, either, or at least not enough so to make Vima accept it with a smile. For a moment, her face screwed up so much that Nomi thought Vima would bust out crying right there, and that Nomi would have to take her out, if only to keep her from becoming so disruptive that Arren might bar both of them from ever coming back. But thankfully, Vima merely trudged back over to the warped windows and sat down beside one of them, staring outside with her back turned to her mother.

Herself, Nomi smiled sadly at Vima’s back, willing her to have patience for just a little longer. _She’s just like Andur; he was always wanting to be somewhere else, no matter where he was. No wonder he took so many off-world missions._

It was too soon to tell with any certainty; Vima was still so young, and trying to pick such things out of a toddler’s face was a fool’s errand. But Nomi still found herself trying to pick up a resemblance, even a minute one, to Andur in Vima. Vima’s hair, once so blonde it was almost white, was starting to darken, though whether it would become Andur’s brown or Vima’s red, only time would tell. Nomi liked to imagine, sometimes, that the quality of Vima’s smile or a certain twinkle in her eyes was Andur’s, but those things would vanish so quickly that it was easier to believe that she had simply imagined it.

What Nomi knew she wasn’t imagining was that creeping sense of loneliness, and what it was telling her: she wished Andur was here. She had found the courage to become a Jedi that she had never possessed in his lifetime, but if she was to become a Jedi, she ought to have trained for it alongside him. The more Nomi’s awareness of the Force grew, the more Andur’s absence from her life felt like a hole in the Force, a dead spot where life should have been, and the sheer _wrongness_ of it made her want to scream.

The opposite of what Shoaneb had told her, Nomi supposed. Instead of the Force making one feel connected, the Force made one feel alone.

-0-0-0-

It was another day, when the sun did not shine so brightly, and gray clouds were passing overhead, occasionally obscuring it from view entirely. Nomi was reading a book about the evolution of the Matukai and Arren and her assistants were being noticeably more active than usual.

Nomi jumped in her chair when the door slammed open and Arren came storming in, eyes blazing and golden hair fairly crackling. A slightly muffled voice sounded as one of Arren’s assistants came following after her, saying rather timidly, “But Master Kae, the chain is so _old_. Surely there must be—“

“I don’t _care_ how old it is!” Arren shouted, looking for all the world like she might just go for the lightsaber at her hip and start hacking away with it. Nomi stared in open shock. “Exar Kun is not bringing it in here! Tell him that! Don’t let him take one step into this building! I don’t care if he complains to Odan-Urr!”

The assistant nodded and scurried away, mandibles chattering nervously. Arren closed the door with a motion that fell just short of a slam, and went to her desk with a huff. She began looking over a stack of paperwork, her jaw set in a bullish, angry line.

“Mama?” Vima was tugging on her sleeve, staring nervously in Arren’s direction. “ _Please_ go outside?”

“No, sweetheart. Just go play with your toys, alright?” On top of Nomi not wanting Vima to wander off, it sounded like there was something potentially tumultuous going on outside; better to make sure Vima didn’t wind up in the middle of it.

For a few minutes, tense silence reigned in the history section of the Archives. Arren did paperwork, still fuming. Nomi tried to read, but kept repeating the same paragraph over and over again. Vima sat by the window and stared at the little crowd of toys she had amassed over the past few weeks, rather than playing with them. The air was so thick it could have been cut with a knife.

Another assistant, a twitching Devaronian, hurried inside and over to Arren’s desk. “He’s gone, Master Kae,” he said quietly. “He said he would go somewhere ‘his finds and talents are more appreciated.’”

Arren rolled her eyes and scoffed. “He’ll be a long time searching, then, unless he decides to disrupt Master Vodo’s workshop. Very well. Go back to your duties.”

It had been a long time since Nomi had last seen someone look so happy when being told to get out.

After a few more minutes of not-reading and not-playing, Arren got up from her desk and began going over the shelves. Her brow was still deeply furrowed, but otherwise the anger was staring to die off of her face. Books and scrolls were taken out of their resting places, given a cursory examination, and replaced. Others that had apparently been put where they were in error were taken out and put in another spot on the shelves. Arren occasionally examined a book more closely, running her hand slowly over the cover with an unreadable look on her face. All this, done in silence.

Then, Arren turned to Nomi, and asked quietly, “Your child, can she read?”

Nomi blinked, thrown by this change. “N-no, not yet. She’s still so young…”

“Not so young that she can’t be taught,” Arren pointed out, her eyes glinting speculatively. Clouds passed over the sun, casting a shadow between them before it vanished. “Master Del-Nai holds literacy classes for the children of Jedi. There are forms you would have to fill out, but I cannot foresee any difficulty in persuading her to take on your child.”

Perhaps this wasn’t meant as an attempt to get Vima out of the room and away from Arren’s fragile books and scrolls. She hadn’t complained about Vima since they first met. But still, Nomi’s first and strongest impulse led her to say, “No.”

Arren raised an eyebrow. “She has to learn some time.”

“Not now. Later.” _Let it lie_.

Mercifully, Arren did not press the issue. “Suit yourself.”

Still, Nomi thought there might be something said for changing the subject. “What was all of that about earlier?” She tried for an encouraging smile. “I’ve never seen you get so angry.”

Arren huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “Exar Kun has returned to Ossus. I believe that is enough to make any archivist worth the title angry.”

“And who is Exar Kun?”

Arren stared down her nose at Nomi, but then, she sighed, and took a seat in the chair next to hers, propping her elbow up on the table and rubbing her forehead with her hand. “I suppose you wouldn’t know. You have not been here long, and Kun has been gone from Ossus for nearly a year. Exar Kun is a Jedi, a student of Master Vodo, who fancies himself an archaeologist. He goes anywhere there are rumors of sites once inhabited by Force users, be they Jedi, Sith or otherwise. Any artifacts he finds, if he deems them ‘valuable’—“ Arren nearly spat the word out, her voice practically dripping venom “—he brings here, in the attempt to identify them and their uses. However much he may claim to esteem the artifacts of the Jedi, he has precious little respect for the artifacts we have _here_.”

“In what way?”

Arren laughed bitterly. “After the state the books he took from me were returned in the _last_ time he availed himself of my services, I would sooner trust your child to handle my materials than I would Exar Kun. He outright destroyed the binding on one of them.”

Given how delicate some of the books here were, Nomi doubted that that would take a great deal of effort, but any damage any of these books took potentially represented a massive loss of _history_. She thought she could understand Arren’s anger. “You are very passionate about your work,” she prompted. They hadn’t spoken much, for all that they had spent so much time in close proximity to each other over these past weeks. Maybe it was time to correct that.

“I planned on becoming a historian,” Arren remarked, her mouth twisting in a smile that was equal parts rueful and bitter. “This was merely the first stop on the hyperspace route. But my predecessor died, and I was the only one who had the qualifications to take over her position.”

“I’m sure you’ll get another chance someday,” Nomi said awkwardly. That… wasn’t quite what she had expected.

Arren rubbed her forehead again, squeezing her eyes shut. “Yes. And leave one of my assistants in charge, may the Force preserve us. And you?” She eyed Nomi closely, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” Nomi asked, a frown tugging on her lips.

“Why did you decide to become a Jedi? With most, the reason is self-evident; with you, significantly less so.”

A split-second, an exhalation, and the scream of the blaster, the scream tearing from her lips, the reek of burning flesh, and a pearly, luminous apparition became as vivid, as branded into memory as if it had all happened yesterday. One blink, and Nomi would be cleaving his killer in two again. “My husband was killed while delivering a shipment of lightsaber crystals. I delivered them for him after he died. It just… It just sort of happened,” she said helplessly.

This earned her a small laugh, dry and amused. “Well, that is a new one. I don’t think I have ever heard someone tell me that becoming a Jedi was something that ‘just sort of happened’ to them.” Her gaze grew sharper, more piercing, as shadow fell over them again. “Nomi… I have heard that you are proficient in battle meditation. Is that true?”

“I…” Nomi sat a little straighter in her chair. “…I don’t know that I’ve used it often enough to be called ‘proficient’, but I can perform battle meditation, yes.”

“And are you planning on expanding your studies of the Force?”

“Yes, I suppose so. Arren, what is this about?”

For the life of her, Nomi couldn’t identify the look that had come over Arren’s face. Painted with deep shadow, the already sharp lines of her face looked carven. “I have a book you might be interested in. There are techniques in the Force against which there is no defense, and I sense there is coming a day when such things will be needed to protect the Jedi. Do you think you could learn them?”

Nomi thought of Andur, of Vima. She thought of Shoaneb, of Master Thon, of everyone she had met on Ossus. She wished for peace—she always had—but if she lost any of them… “I’m willing to try,” she said, and did not realize until later that she hadn’t asked Arren what those techniques were.


End file.
